


Hell Hath No Fury (Like a Dragon Scorned)

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Creature Stiles, Dragon!Stiles, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Scott is a Bad Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: Anonymous asked: How about dragon or fae (or other non human) Stiles saving Peter when the Pack decides he would be perfect to sacrifice as a gift for the Fae after Scott and his puppies insulted their delegation? Love your work:)





	Hell Hath No Fury (Like a Dragon Scorned)

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI, this one almost got named: "No, Your Honor, the Queen is Out of Order!"
> 
> I think I'm much funnier than I actually am...

If Scott had informed Stiles that they were dealing with Fae, perhaps things would’ve worked differently. The Fae were well known for their tricks and secrets, but they would never cross a dragon. There was a respect there, as one powerful immortal species to another, and a Fae would never risk the wrath of a dragon by invading its territory or threatening their Clan.

But regardless of what their intentions were, Stiles was furious.

“You. Did. What,” Stiles demanded, taking deep breaths to try and keep from spewing fire from his mouth. His control was already on edge and any moment it felt like he could have wings sprouting from his back.

Scott grinned obliviously. “Well you know how the Fae got mad when we invaded their ring in the Preserve last full moon? They said they’d forgive us if we gave them something of value. Turns out the Fae value born wolves, so Lydia knocked Peter out with the powder Allison gave her and we gave him to them.  Isn’t it great? Now we don’t have to be constantly looking over our shoulder for him to backstab us or something. “

Stiles’ eyes flared bright, like fire that had been doused in gasoline. “You just  _gave them Peter?_ ” Stiles growled, fangs lengthening and form stretching just a few inches taller as his control slipped.

Scott looked at him in confusion, head tilted to the side. “Why are you so upset? I mean, they value born wolves so it’s not like they’ll hurt him. But they’ll keep him out of our hair too. It works for everyone.”

“Scott,” Stiles grounded through clenched teeth. “Fae value born wolves for their blood. They will  _drain Peter of everything before killing him and eating him, because that’s the kind of sick fucks Fae are!_ ” He roared, officially entering his half-shift with scales covering his skin and horns sprouting from his head. Scott shrunk away from him, his puppy eyes making their appearance.

“What? No, they said they wouldn’t hurt him. You’re mistaken—”

“ _And that you would hand my mate over to another so callously—”_

“Stiles, we told you, that was just Peter messing with your head! He’s not really your mate—”

“ _I am done with you!_ ” Stiles growled, snapping his jaws once before his wings spread wide. He followed the pull of his mate bond, deeper into the forest, ignoring Scott’s yells for him to come back.

“I demand audience with your Queen,” He growled, settling into the clearing across from the Fae ring. The trees tittered with little voices, hidden creatures among them, and he breathed fire into the surrounding air. They silenced. “ _Dragon Mieczyslaw demands audience with your Queen. Now!_ ”

The trees’ leaves were swept up in the wind as the Fae rushed across the realm to fetch their Queen. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Dragon Mieczyslaw, you have summoned me.”

Stiles met the Queen’s gaze evenly, not pulled by her supernatural allure by even a moment. She stood tall, regal, surrounded by her Court, both visibly at her side and hidden among the trees, waiting.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

The Queen blinked, double eyelids crossing before her purple irises shown bright. “You must mean the wolf,” she spoke finally. There was a weighted silence in the clearing, an unnatural calm.

“I mean my  _mate_ ,” Stiles growled. There was an audible gasp and even the Queen’s eyes widened in surprise.

“We were not aware of the wolf’s status as a dragon’s mate. There was no slight intended,” She intoned gravely. “However, by all rights, he was offered and accepted as recompense. The Alpha—”

“Had  _no right_ ,” Stiles interrupted tersely. “My mate is not a member of his Pack to offer. He is my Clan and mine alone. Release him or a dragon’s vendetta will be upon you.”

The Queen paused, poised even under the fury-filled gaze of an angry dragon. She breathed with the trees, slow and steady. “I will return him,” She finally spoke, waving to her escort. “Fetch him,” she ordered. The Fae bowed before disappearing within the ring. She turned back to Stiles. “But this reopens our dispute with the Pack here.”

“This act has broken my ties with them; the Pack is no longer my concern,” Stiles stated, easily falling into the traditional speak of old. “Raze them to the ground, if you must. But you will not touch my Clan.”

The Queen tilted her head once, a nod of agreement, before Peter came crashing through the portal followed closely by the Fae that had been sent to fetch him.

Peter was shivering, lacerations covering his arms and bare chest. His eyes were bright blue, and he nearly sobbed in relief when they landed on his mate.

“ _Stiles_ ,” he breathed, voice catching.

Stiles glared at the Queen, still standing between them. She gracefully moved aside, allowing Peter to stumble over to the dragon. He collapsed against Stiles, hands clutching at his clothes desperately and inhaling his mate’s scent, nuzzling under his throat and fighting back fearful whimpers. He’d been absolutely terrified, having the ‘pack’ turn on him, knocking him out cold before he’d even said a word. Then he’d woken up to unnaturally beautiful faces all around him, grinning with too many too sharp teeth and wondering at how good he’d taste. Pain had been everywhere as they’d tried to bleed him dry, talking about the feast they’d have that evening. He’d never doubted that Stiles would come, but only that the dragon might not be fast enough.

“This will suffice your fury?” The Queen spoke.

Stiles raised his head from where he’d been scenting Peter in return, eyes flaring bright once more. “This will settle my quarrel with you,” Stiles agreed. “The Pack here must answer to my fury, but I feel as if you may cause them enough havoc for us both.”

The Queen’s face darkened at the mention of the Pack. “Alpha McCall has much to answer for. We Fae are sly but never dishonest. That he would attempt to cause ruin amongst my people by bringing upon us a dragon’s wrath is not something to take lightly.”

“I will leave you to it then. My Clan consists of my mate and my sire. I would also ask that you leave the innocents of the territory uninvolved, but those of the Pack should face the consequences of their actions.”

“Your Clan will come of no further harm from my Court, Dragon Mieczyslaw,” the Queen promised. “And due to our misstep, should you have need, I would grant you a boon.”

Stiles nodded, accepting the offer. He tucked Peter close, wings spreading wide in preparation of flight. The Fae had disappeared from the clearing before he’d even taken off.

When Stiles landed near Peter’s apartment, the wolf was still too shaken up to let go of him. Stiles didn’t much want to stop touching him either. It took some maneuvering to get the door unlocked, but once they slipped inside, Peter just collapsed against him, pinning Stiles to the wall. Stiles rumbled soothingly from deep within his chest, wrapping his arms around Peter tightly and holding him. He didn’t know how long they stood there, breathing, just trying to take each other in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, wolf,” Stiles murmured eventually, reluctantly pulling away. The wolf looked a little more settled but also exhausted. Stiles frowned at the slowly healing cuts decorating his mate’s skin. Peter followed Stiles listlessly into the bathroom, letting the dragon slowly drag a warm rag over his skin to clean off the blood, then bandaging the worst of the cuts.

Peter crawled onto the bed before slumping into the mattress, reaching out for Stiles to join him. The dragon pulled him into his arms, curling around him protectively.

“I will never let anyone hurt you again,” Stiles vowed as Peter snuffled against the skin of his throat, scenting him. Stiles eyes flared bright in the darkness of their room, his anger still wild within him even with his mate now safe in his arms.

Peter pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ skin, pressing just a little closer. “I knew you would come,” Peter murmured. “I never doubted that.”

Stiles held him closer, slowly breathing in his scent and forcing himself to calm down. “Tomorrow, we’ll look into getting away from this town. We can visit dad or he can fly out to wherever we move. I don’t care about anyone else.”

Peter hummed his agreement, weary. “Derek and Cora are enjoying New Orleans,” he added, voice heavy as the fatigue caught up to him.

Stiles ran his fingers through Peter’s hair soothingly. “Maybe we can go there then,” he thought aloud, though Peter was already asleep. Stiles remained awake even hours later, fiery eyes watching the door and window mistrustfully. His phone rang from the bedside table, the screen showing first Scott, then Lydia. Allison. Then Scott again. Stiles reached out, grabbing the phone before crushing it in his hand disinterestedly. The pieces fell to the floor and the room was silent once more. Stiles buried his nose in his mate’s hair, took in a deep breath, and finally let himself fall to slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!


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